the others

i see the worst in people, i choose to, so they have a chance to surprise me.
unfortunately, most never do.

archaic demon

hast thou thy peepers ready and yet
shalt we rest under the hot sun and set.
but down didst not bring thou that clown
that is next in line for the golden crown.
fulfilled and fat, wearing the nicest hat,
we long to get more of this and that.
alas, they've thrown us on the shore
to die as miserable as ever we were.

meet me in secret

last time we spoke
words weren't clear,
covered in haze or smoke
and untrue to the ear.

but things hardly seem right
when spoken out of spite,
we were so tired that night
to go and take the bite.

in here we make the stand
staring at each other,
afraid to move a hand
and make it all over.

silence won't be broken,
                            alone.
the words to be spoken
                are your own.